sad squash

I was going to do a post about spaghetti squash. Not because I like to pretend it's pasta, as some crazy people do (it's too sweet for that), but because it makes a great fridge staple for a vegetarian (or semi vegetarian like me). I roast it up, perhaps give it a quick saute with olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic, dole it into plastic storage containers, and eat it for lunch all week. It's delicious, it can be reheated in about a minute in the microwave, and makes a great side dish either just as described, or tarted up with some cheese (parmesan, pecorino, goat cheese or feta have done nicely, on the internets I hear ricotta is great too). As a main, I add steamed, roasted or sauteed veggies, red pepper flakes and possibly a protein on top, like garlicky shrimp or cubes of cooked fish.

I was going to roast and saute a squash today, and photograph it all, and then eat some for dinner and photograph that too. Except when I cut open my squash, it was too easy. See, breaking down a spaghetti squash is generally a pretty dangerous proposition for me, even with sharp chef's knife. Then came the smell. I wasn't sure it was coming from the squash. Sorority kitchen and all, you can never tell.

I was really looking forward to that squash. But then I saw this*:



This squash is rotten. It's rotten enough to tempt me to use an emoticon to describe it. Except for Jack-o-Lanterns folding in on themselves at the end of November, I don't even think I've seen a rotten squash before, but I can still tell. Spaghetti squash should not look like this when you crack it open. If it does, trash it. Don't feel too bad about it, spaghetti squash, especially during this time of year, is a pretty good buy.

From my very limited understanding squash, even beautiful delicious noodly spaghetti squash, lasts a good long while (up to a month). Since I've only had this one waiting around for a week or two, I'm going to blame the store where I bought it. It must have been sitting around there for a while. And if it's not their fault, I am going to blame them anyway. Why? Because, as I said before, I was looking forward to that spaghetti squash.

*You can go ahead and blame some of the grayness on the lighting in my kitchen, but that thing was pretty grisly inside either way. And don't forget the smell. It was definitely the cut squash.

cheddar-chive scones

cheddar chive scones, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

I rarely ever make scones, because I don't keep cream on hand, but after brunching at S's a weekend or two ago (see cinnamon rolls), and eating a version of these, which are a version of Ina Garten's cheddar-dill scones, I decided they were worth a special trip to the grocery store. The recipe is in Ina Garten's (first, I believe) book, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I halved the recipe and copied S, swapping out the dill for fresh chives. These were incredibly cheesy and chive-y.

cheddar-chive scones

2 cups ap flour, plus more for rolling
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, diced
2 large eggs, beaten
1/2 cup cold heavy cream
4.5 ounces (yellow) extra sharp cheddar cheese, small-diced
1/2 cup minced chives (I trimmed with scissors)
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon milk, for egg wash

Preheat oven to 400.

Whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. Add the diced butter to the flour mixture and using two knives, a pastry blender or your fingers, cut the butter into the flour until the butter is in pea-sized pieces. Those pieces are the key to perfect scone texture. Lightly beat the eggs into the heavy cream and add to the flour/butter mixture. Combine with a few quick strokes. Add the diced cheddar and minced chives, then stir until mostly incorporated. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead briefly and lightly, until the chives and cheese are thoroughly incorporated. Roll out to a 3/4-inch thickness. Cut the dough into eight equal portions, then roll each into a small ball. Place scones on a baking sheet lined with parchment or silicone. Flatten each lightly with the palm of your hand, then brush with the egg wash. Bake for 20-25 minutes until light brown and crusty on the outside.

Yields 8 fantastic scones.

i wish i had a fridge muffins

I made these muffins because I just purchased some of those nifty nut and party cups to use as muffin tin liners, a la Chockylit of the apparently defunct Cupcake Bakeshop and because the refrigerator-less state of my otherwise lovely office means that I can't carry the sort of snacks and foods to work that I would bring normally. I wanted something whole grain and savory, and these hit the spot. I put in just a smidge of regular old ap flour to prevent the muffins from being totally dense, and used plain old grocery store sharp cheddar cheese. I don't need to tell you that an artisanal cheddar would elevate them, or that many other hard cheeses (pecorino perhaps, or manchego) would be great too. Dried herbs or some pepper would be a welcome addition. I used skim milk because it's what I keep on hand-I'm sure whole would be great. If you plan to consume these right away, try half a stick (1/4 cup) of melted butter in place of the vegetable oil (using oil generally helps keep muffins moister longer). I plan to take these as a snack for work, but consider them as an excellent bread to serve with breakfast or dinner.

i wish i had a fridge muffins

1-3/4 cups whole wheat flour
3/4 cup ap flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (grated) sharp cheddar
1 egg
1 1/4 cups skim milk
1/4 cup canola oil

Preheat the oven to 350. Line a twelve cup muffin tin with paper liners (or, nut and party cups). Whisk flours, baking powder, sugar and salt and a medium-sized bowl. Add grated cheese and mix until the pieces of cheese are mostly separated (this prevents huge clumps of cheese from forming in the muffins). In a smaller bowl (I did this in my four cup measuring cup), beat the milk, oil and egg until thoroughly combined. Pour this mixture into the dry ingredients and mix together, using as few strokes as possible, until all the dry ingredients are moistened. Divide the batter among the cups (they will be pretty full). Bake for about fifteen minutes or until an inserted toothpick emerges cleanly. Cool in the pan for three minutes and then on a rack before storing.

Yields twelve muffins.

the pancake affair

This weekend was Mother's Day. Finals separated me and my mother on actual Mother's Day and so I promised her an extra special, rescheduled day. Presents, flowers, homemade chocolate chip cookies (she insists that the varieties of cookies that I make are delicious-but wholly unnecessary), breakfast, the SATC movie, church and more were included in the equation. I really hope I don't have to spend Mother's Day away from my mother again in the future, but I do think Sunday was an adequate makeup.

My mother loves blueberries and she also loves a delicious pancake breakfast so I resolved to prepare blueberry vanilla pancakes for the special day. Working off of a simple JOC classic, and swiping a tip from a former pastry chef friend (thanks D, the clarified butter was an excellent suggestion), I prepped the dry and wet ingredients the night before with the hopes of whipping up a timely and perfect meal. For the woman who had sometimes made me breakfasts and other times dinged me in the forehead for my idiotic actions, I would become the perfect pancake making domestic goddess.

Not so. I don't know what it was. I've made pancakes many times. Fantastic pancakes. These however, I could not unstick. My mother mocked me from the living room while she munched on a pre-breakfast cookie appetizer. I turned off the eggs so they wouldn't be overdone by the time I managed to flip a single pancake. Sweat-and many of you know I simply don't sweat much, naturally-began to develop on my brow. "Do you want some help," she asked from the living room couch, where she practiced a lesson she would teach in a few short hours to a group of four preteens at her church. I refused her assistance and went on scraping my pancake-like messes off the bottom of the pan. Where were my pancake flipping chops?

After a few screwy cakes I submitted and let my mom watch. "You're being impatient," she told me, "you need to make sure they're actually brown before you flip them." Right In the moment I thought she was being impossibly annoying. I wasn't being impatient, I merely wanted the pancakes to be perfect. Then I realized those were exactly the same thing. I chilled out a bit and drank a big glass of water while I waited for the next few to brown. My mom applauded flips as though I'd performed the kind you do with your body. In the end we sat down to some yummy breakfast and delicious chatter.

The incident reminded me of something I read in a Nigella book very recently. In it, she points out that cooking has become a race from A to B to Plate, without a rest for enjoying the feel of flour in your fingertips or the ever-headier scent of basil as it's torn. It's not that I imagine I will suddenly stop doing last minute, super rushed, must be perfect cooking sometimes. I only hope that some of those times my mother, or NH, or somebody else who I love and who loves me will stop me, tell me I am being impatient, and ding me in the forehead for burning my hand with the pan.

good things to put in scrambled eggs

ricotta
shredded fontina
shredded mozz
shredded cheddar
shredded manchego
goat cheese

chives
scallions

diced roasted tomatoes
diced sauteed peppers
black beans

fresh ground black pepper

Obviously not an exhaustive list.

perfect (ridiculously simple) tomatoes for salad

I don't like the texture of raw tomatoes in my salad, and having purchased some gorgeous spinach yesterday as well as some lovely, ripe organic roma tomatoes, I decided some roasting was in order this morning. These take three hours to roast but only about six minutes to prepare, and are more flavorful and exciting than regular tomatoes. Roasted tomatoes are excellent on pizza (a nice contrast with the relatively mild, less sweet sauce) or chopped up and tossed into pasta with olive oil, garlic, and spinach. The roasting time can be adjusted to suit your preferences; 1 1/2 to 2 hours will yield juicier, but still heavenly, tomatoes that will play nicely with pasta or on bruschetta. Make as many tomatoes as you need or desire, but keep in mind that you'll end up with a lot less than you started with. Many people dress these up with garlic, herbs and the like, but in my opinion the plain kind are the most versatile.

Incidentally, since the flavors are concentrated here this is an excellent use for tomatoes that are watery or less flavorful than you'd like.

perfect tomatoes

8-12 roma tomatoes
2-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
fresh ground black pepper

Preheat to 275. Line a roasting dish with aluminum foil (easy cleanup; not necessary). Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil into pan and use the back of a spoon, or a basting brush, to spread evenly. Wash tomatoes. Split each in half lengthwise, and using a paring or other small knife, cut around the stem. Using a small spoon, scoop out the tomato innards and discard. Place tomatoes, cut side up, in roasting dish. Drizzle with olive oil to your preferences, about 1-3 tablespoons. Sprinkle tomatoes with sea salt, again to your preferences, and a little bit of fresh ground black pepper. Put tomatoes into oven and leave them alone for 1 1/2-3 hours. Tomatoes are ready when your house smells amazing and/or they look about as dry as appeals to you.

Yields X fantastic tomatoes.

procrastination cauliflower

What to do when I have hours of writing and work ahead of me?

Decide to roast a head of cauliflower and two heads of garlic, of course.

This didn't come out how I planned (I wanted something somewhat firm and slightly caramelized), partially because I left the pan covered with foil too long in the oven, and partially because my housemates shut the oven off in the middle of cooking, probably because no one expects the oven to be on at midnight. The resulting cauliflower was still delicious but soft, and to exploit this, I'm eating some of the leftovers lightly mashed with a fork for lunch. This tastes nothing like mashed potatoes but is much more flavorful and little healthier. I could envision different herbs, spices or cheeses incorporated, but I like the simplicity of this preparation. This recipe is ridiculously easy and makes an often hated vegetable incredibly palatable. Plus, garlic is really good for you and this recipe has around fifteen cloves of it.

procrastination cauliflower

1 head cauliflower, cut into florets and rinsed
2 heads of garlic
olive oil
sea salt
(freshly ground) black pepper
pecorino, or some other hard grating cheese

Preheat the oven to 375. In a large baking dish (I used 13x9 Pyrex, I do wonder whether metal would improve caramelization) Pour a little olive oil into the bottom of the pan and spread it around. Toss the florets of cauliflower in the oil so that most have a light coating (do the oil to taste, I like to air on the side of caution with only a couple of tablespoons). Cut off the tops of the garlic heads so that all of the cloves inside are exposed. Don't be too precious about losing garlic--there will be plenty. In fact, if you don't love garlic as much as I do, you might want to use just one head. Put the exposed heads in the pan, nestling them in with the florets. Add a little more olive oil right into the open heads of garlic to prevent burning, and then salt and pepper the whole pan, and don't be shy. Cover with foil and bake for about 35 to 45 minutes, until the cauliflower is the texture you prefer. Now pluck those open heads of garlic out of the pan, they are full of one of the most delicious substances known to man: roasted garlic. Pop the cloves out by squeezing the head. If you are smarter than me you will let them cool slightly first. Mash the cloves with fork and toss thoroughly with the roasted cauliflower. Top the whole mess with grated pecorino and pop back into the over for a few minutes, uncovered, to melt the cheese. Eat.

shame and groceries

Apparently, many people are really, really opinionated about groceries. Over at Serious Eats there's a great discussion going on about those items we buy that we're not exactly thrilled to show off. Instant mashed potatoes (seemingly used, ubiquitously, in alternative applications like sourdough starters and potato bread) are proving popular, among luncheon meats and that stuff in the blue box Kraft insists on calling macaroni and cheese.

Part of me wants to laugh (who cares what you buy if it makes you happy) and part of me knows that deep down, I am a food snob too. I can't help it, my mother raised me that way, and stressed what I call "real food" over most processed conveniences. I was still a little kid when I began to eschew such American family favorites as that curiously sawdust-like cheese product in a green cylinder Kraft insists on calling parmesan cheese (ahem, real Parmesan must be shredded or grated or crumbled or shaved, at the table please). I glance over my purchases in the grocery store and even sometimes feel they portray a certain image, and feel satisfied that if I am what I eat (or at least what I buy at the market) then I have at least small cause for satisfaction. I cook, prepare or bake things that many people buy (bread, cookies, cake, soup, macaroni and cheese, salad). I try to buy organic dairy and produce. I like my chocolate dark, my coffee black and Lipton tea sort of terrifies me (NH keeps asking me if it's "brown" tea) , though I'll have it at Waffle House with my Cheese 'n' Eggs and Cinnamon Toast.

Still, I think it's a little silly to fret over conveniences that make our lives work out a little easier. My mom cooked plenty while I was growing up, but we also did plenty of nights of making our own toppings for a frozen pizza (I did this with NH this weekend, as we are both fiends for caramelized onions on our pizza), and I know she always had a box of instant mashed potatoes on hand, along with all kinds of stuff that a working mother needs: garlic powder (gasp!), taco seasoning (boo!), string cheese (agh!) and frozen stuff for snacks, like toaster strudel (no!). She emphasized health but it's not like she had time to be a gourmet chef three times a day, and you know what, I turned out fine. She taught me about eating good things, eating (not too many) bad things, and leaving time in your day for fun.

I once debated whether those Polly-o string cheeses that used to come with "pizza sauce" for dipping were an actual food with my friend's boyfriend. She and I, both very interested in healthful eating and checking out New York restaurants and cooking things like tofu or spinach, had loved the things as children. He mocked us endlessly for them. In the end he was probably right, presented with one of those things (or the pizza Lunchables I once embraced) today I probably wouldn't give them a nibble. In the end, that's not the point. How you eat and what you eat really is a personal decision, and no one should feel embarrassed to like string cheese, frozen burritos, or chicken nuggets.

I've caught people tossing discriminating glances toward shopping carts laden with soda, stacked with chips, or featuring a case of Easy Mac (I think I lived on that freshman year, sigh). This sort of behavior is really childish. It's impossible to know why someone else eats or buys what they do, and since it hardly affects anyone but the person doing the shopping and their immediate family, I'd like to advocate for keeping our eyes on our own carts. Even more so, it'd be nice to see people stop judging themselves for the products they love or use as timesavers. No grown man should feel he needs to engage in furtive Nesquick purchasing.

What are your favorite grocery conveniences?

love for breakfast

NH spent most of the weekend here with me. On Saturday, while trying to decide what to have for breakfast NH suggested we scramble some eggs and purchase some instant biscuits from the store, which I immediately took as a challenge. I make biscuits from scratch all the time, but usually not in the morning, and since once you've had delicious homemade biscuits canned biscuits are far from ideal, I don't have biscuits in the AM too much. But since it was Saturday, I decided it was time to try out some morning baking. NH made the few blocks trek down to the further away, but far better, grocery store to pick up some last minute supplies (like eggs), and I got these started. I went with drop biscuits (faster, more tender) but you could cut down the liquid (by about a quarter) and roll these instead, if you prefer more uniform biscuits, which might be better for spreading with preserves. Cheese and/or herbs would be a nice addition, especially if you wanted to serve these with dinner. You could also change the liquids if you'd prefer a less rich biscuit.

dropped biscuits
roughly adapted from Joy of Cooking

about 1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
about 1/2 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons very very cold butter (I just took the chill off of some frozen butter), cut into small cubes
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup cream (light, heavy or whipping will do)

Preheat the oven to 450. Combine flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Cut in the butter. Many people do this with knives or that funny looking pastry blending tool, but I prefer to do it with my hands, which is why I used extra cold butter, which can withstand the heat of my hands a bit longer than merely cold butter. Put the cubes in flour, mix it up, and use the tips of your fingers to break the cubes into smaller and smaller pieces, constantly incorporating the pieces with the dry ingredients. Do not let the butter melt! This will destroy your biscuits' texture. The goal is to incorporate the butter as discrete bits mixed in with the flour. When you're done, the flour/butter mixture should resemble coarse bread crumbs. Make a well in the flour/butter mixture, and pour in the cream and milk. Stir the mixture until just combined. Drop lumps onto an ungreased baking sheet (mine were about a scant 1/4 cup sized, but size is to your taste and intentions), and bake for about fifteen minutes or until a light golden brown. Serve warm. These will keep nicely for the next day, and can be reheated in a 250 oven for a few minutes.

someone actually ate suffered this for dinner

As mentioned in last night's preview post, this is a scan from an actual book. A book I paid money for (I'm geeky like that). It's a super old (1935) more than well-used manual for housewives entitled Homemaker's Handbook, written by Dorothy Myerson and published by McGraw-Hill (Whittlesey House is the imprint, I think). It's a treasure trove of outdated housewifery, from tips on what to feed children during a birthday party (preview, today's hot dogs, hamburgers, and pizza wouldn't fly--too taxing on a young'un's  digestive system), to sample schedules for hired help, to recipes for every sort of food. These recipes harken back to a time when a single cocktail could land you in the hospital for alcohol poisoning, children didn't speak until spoken to, and gelatin wasn't just for dessert.

On that last point: this book is laden with recipes for aspics and other gelatinous dinner dishes. I couldn't quite tell you when molded dinners fell out of vogue, but I'm more than happy to say that I've never had one. Still, the recipe above fascinates. It is a sort of chicken meat loaf, composed of chopped chicken set into chicken stock Jell-o. Now close your eyes. Imagine your mother is calling you to dinner, and that is what she is serving.

Probably someone will come in and say "oh, well that's what you'd be used to" or "don't knock it until you try it" or "tastes change" or my personal favorite (and one my mother pulled lots of times), "if you're hungry enough, you'll eat it". Yup, I agree with all of those statements. But as a modern reader, that loaf sounds downright disgusting. Would you eat it?

Later this week I'll post some yummy sounding chicken recipes I'd make for NH (I don't eat chicken) instead. In the mean time, for some more questionable recipe fun check out the Gallery of Regrettable Foods. Also, since they're packed with recipes that aren't quite to many reader's tastes, old cookbooks can be had on the cheap from used book stores, and are loaded with kitschy charm.